


Confetti

by keeperofthemoon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, fighting fate, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:09:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22942306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keeperofthemoon/pseuds/keeperofthemoon
Summary: No. Not Draco.Malfoy. Thinking of him as Draco would mean they weresomethingand they weren’t. Just because they were soulmates didn’t make them friends. It didn’t even make them acquaintances! If anything, Ginny should consider him an enemy. No, shedidconsider him an enemy. Though Ginny had hardly seen Malfoy this school year, it didn’t make him any less horrid. It didn’t suddenly make all the cruel things he had done over the years disappear.He wasn’t suddenly some saint!
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 24
Kudos: 165





	1. June 18th, 1996

**Author's Note:**

  * For [idreamofdraco](https://archiveofourown.org/users/idreamofdraco/gifts).



_June 18th, 1996_

_Dolores Umbridge’s office, second floor corridor, Hogwarts_

This was ridiculous and _boring_.

Draco kicked his feet up onto the desk with a loud sigh. He hadn’t been sure how the capture of Potter and his goons was going to go but he hadn’t expected this—waiting in Umbridge’s office while Granger and Potter led her to some hidden weapon. After everything Draco had done for that rotten woman, she refused to let him join her! 

Wait till his father heard about this.

Draco sniffed as he glanced around the room. It was pink, girlish, and obnoxious in a way that made even Pansy cringe. There was something… fake and off-putting about it. He eyed the ornamental plates that hung on the walls; one of the technicolor kittens that adorned them meowed at him. It made him feel rather uneasy. He looked away, lip curling, before his attention fell on the grumpy students huddled on the floor. 

He smirked. 

Though Umbridge seemed on the verge of a breakdown—honestly, did she really think she’d get away with using an Unforgiveable on Potter?—Draco had to admit that the power she had bestowed upon him and his friends was a welcome change. Dumbledore, the fool, was no longer at Hogwarts; instead he was hiding from the Ministry. McGonagall was at St. Mungo’s, recovering from multiple Stunners to the chest. There was no one at the castle who seemed willing to stand up to Umbridge in their absence. Meaning, since he was an Inquisitorial Squad member, there were few willing to stand up to him. It now left him in control of the Weasley siblings, Lovegood, and Longbottom. 

His smirk stretched further across his face.

As though feeling his gaze, the youngest Weasley looked over at him. She was a tiny thing but he could see the rage flowing through her. She must hate that she was captured and helpless. Draco had a feeling that, given the chance, she would attack him. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat at the thought. It wasn’t that he was afraid of her. Of course not. Weasleys simply seemed to have something ruthless and uncontrollable in their systems. He couldn’t count the number of times her brothers had attacked him over the years. Draco didn’t doubt that the girl would do something similar given the chance.

And the accusation in her gaze—as if _he_ forced her to do Potter’s bidding! As if it were Draco’s fault that she managed got caught while Potter tried to get a hold of Dumbledore through the Floo. Draco had always known Potter was an idiot, and Weasley too, but he had been surprised that the rest of the Gryffindor gang had followed Potter into this mess. 

Draco looked away from the girl, instead focusing on the desk in front of him. It was covered in bright pink lace. On the corner was a vase holding dried flowers. Daisies, he thought, before eyeing the rolls of parchment on the desk. He desperately wanted to go through all the drawers and folders, knowing that Umbridge, Potter, and Granger wouldn’t be back for a long while, but he didn’t dare. Who knew what hexes Umbridge had in place to protect her privacy.

Again, he sighed. He should’ve questioned Umbridge more before she had stormed out of the office. Was he supposed to sit here with these Gryffindors all day? Goyle looked ready to nod off in favor of watching over the other students. Crabbe was tapping the stolen wands against the wall, watching the sparks that exploded from the tips with amusement. Bulstrode was curling a piece of hair around her pointer finger, scowling. Davis was looking at her shins with a frown; the Weasley girl had been kicking at them the whole time Umbridge had interrogated Potter. Draco could already see the bruises forming.

His eyes drifted to his exposed wrist. At some point during his capture of the Gryffindors, someone had yanked at his sleeve and ripped the buttons off. His stomach clenched when he saw the raised, darkened skin that was normally hidden: his mark. Or soul mark, as some people called it. Two interlocked circles that had decorated the inside of his wrist since he was born. Somewhere there was a person with the exact same marking in the exact same place. His soulmate.

Draco turned his wrist one way then the other. He had taken to ignoring the marking and realized now that he hadn’t really looked at it in a while. When he was younger, the idea of a soulmate had excited him. There was someone out there that was meant for _him_ ; Draco had always liked having his own things. But as he got older, and as his parents steadily reminded him that Malfoys didn’t look for their soulmates, that arranged marriages were easier and better, he had decided to forget all about it.

It was all rather stupid, wasn’t it? Some mark on your body was supposed to tell you who you were meant to end up with? There were billions of people in the world but the only way you’d be truly happy was to find the one person out of all of them that shared the same mark as you? Even if Draco did find his soulmate, his parents would likely force him into a marriage with a family that benefited them. 

There was a reason he didn’t pay attention to his mark anymore. Draco forced himself to look away from his wrist and around the office again. Right away he noticed that the Gryffindors were sharing looks, communicating silently. His eyes narrowed and he lowered his feet to the ground before standing up. Moving caught the attention of the Gryffindors. 

“Don’t do anything foolish,” Draco warned, the corner of his lip curling upwards as he went to stand in front of the desk. “I don’t think Umbridge would mind much if we tested out some Unforgivables on you. What had she said? Oh, yes— _what Cornelius doesn’t know won’t hurt him_.”

He thought he did a good job of mimicking Umbridge’s girlish, high-pitched voice; Goyle and Crabbe both laughed. Longbottom glared. Lovegood blinked distractedly. Ron Weasley turned red in the face. And the other Weasley lifted an eyebrow, as though she didn’t believe him. Draco’s hand twitched at his side; he _wouldn’t_ test out any curses on them, of course, but he didn’t want them to know that. 

He wished Umbridge would’ve let him go with her to look at this weapon Dumbledore had the Gryffindors working on. What could it be? She had been worried for months that Dumbledore was going to attack the Ministry. Draco thought the idea of it was rather stupid but Dumbledore was always at odds with the Ministry, wasn’t he? And Dumbledore had created that stupid army of his among the students he favored. Draco tapped his wand against his leg, eyes narrowed in thought.

Where would they even hide the weapon? Not the dungeons, surely, or one of the Slytherins would have found it. Maybe Gryffindor tower? And what did it do exactly? Did it—

A soft noise distracted Draco from his thoughts. He glanced around the office, trying to figure out what the odd sound was. None of his housemates seemed to hear it. Draco looked at the Gryffindors. Lovegood was humming softly to herself. Longbottom was sitting perfectly still, staring down at the ground. Weasley was glaring up at Crabbe and Goyle.

But the sound… Something was off.

Draco blinked, looking around the room once more. Then it clicked.

“Where did she go?” Draco shouted, startling the Slytherins. “Where is she?”

“Who?” Bulstrode asked, eyes wide.

“The Weasley girl—”

Longbottom jumped up off the ground, slamming Crabbe into the wall. Weasley stood up and began rushing towards Malfoy, his eyes dark and face red. Draco reacted on instinct; he wasn’t sure what spell came to mind but it sent Weasley flying back. He almost laughed—Weasley was such an idiot—but something hard hit him in the back, shattering on contact. Stumbling forward, Draco barely stopped himself from crying out in pain. What the _fuck_! He looked over his shoulder.

The youngest Weasley stood on top of the desk, a plate clutched in her hand. He stared in awe. She looked absolutely fierce, her school uniform askew, her hair wild around her flushed face. Her knees were red and irritated; the sound he had heard was her crawling behind the desk, he realized absently. A sharp grin colored her face. Draco thought he heard the kitten on the plate _meow_ before Weasley chucked it at him. This time, he was able to hit it with a spell that shattered it before it could reach him.

“You _wench_!” Draco shouted. “You think you can—”

Before he could finish his sentence, the girl launched herself off the desk at him. Draco didn’t get the chance to defend himself; someone knocked into him from behind, throwing him off balance. At least it stopped Weasley from landing on top of him though. Scowling, Draco turned around, ready to put a Leg-Locker Curse on the banshee— but he froze. The office was in absolute chaos. Longbottom and Crabbe were physically fighting over the stolen wands. Bulstrode was Stunned on the floor. Davis had Lovegood by the back of her cloak and was trying to pull her backwards. Goyle and Weasley were shouting spells at each other; behind them, plates were broken and the wallpaper was singed. 

“Give it here, Malfoy!” 

Draco turned at the voice. It was the Weasley girl. He jerked away from her but not fast enough. In one quick movement, she reached out and grabbed his wand. Without thinking, Draco took hold of her wrist with his free hand, intent on making her release his wand by whatever means necessary but—

But the world seemed to freeze when he touched her. Or, perhaps, it had sped up. He wasn’t sure, too overwhelmed by the rush of adrenaline that hit him. Tingles raced through him, starting at their point of contact. It heated his palm, spread up his arm, then settled in his chest. He inhaled sharply and managed one quick thought—what curse had she used on him—before the tingles were replaced with warmth and comfort and _rightness_. It was hard to explain but, in that moment, Draco felt _whole_.

Weasley hadn’t managed to curse him. No, no, she didn’t even have a wand. She was—there was no way but—could it be possible— was _Weasley_ his soulmate? The mark on his wrist was prickling but not unpleasantly. And Draco hadn’t let go of her yet. She was staring back at him with the same shock and horror that was likely painted on his face. Her eyes were brown. Freckles decorated her skin, everywhere, everywhere, _everywhere_.

It was said the first time you touched your soulmate the world would right itself. Was that what was happening now? His grip on her loosened without his permission. She was his soulmate. That was the only explanation, wasn’t it? Though Draco wanted to question it more… there was really no point. His blood hummed at her touch, his heart raced, his mouth went dry. Something stirred inside of him as though waking for the first time. 

She exhaled and he inhaled, sharing the same breath.

His fingers were only lightly wrapped around her wrist now. He needed to push her away, he needed to get away from here, he needed to go to the library, to research it more, because there was no way this was what he thought it was.

Draco saw her pupils dilate, watched as her breath hitched, wondered briefly if he was going mad. Then she ripped his wand out of his grasp and pointed it directly at his face. He blinked, his body going cold. With little hesitation, she shouted a spell at him. The force of it knocked him off his feet.

\-------

“Well. This is embarrassing, isn’t it?”

Draco looked up warily, still holding a handkerchief to his nose. Pansy pursed her lips when they made eye contact, clearly trying not to giggle, before she took a seat beside him on the floor. Her knee bumped his.

“I saw Potter’s gang running through the Entrance Hall, laughing about destroying Umbridge’s office and defeating the fools inside. I figured I’d come check on you.”

“How very kind of you.”

“Which one of Potter’s sidekicks cursed you?” she asked.

He didn’t want to tell her the truth but he had no energy to lie.

“The Weasley girl.”

“The Weasley girl? She hit you with a Bat-Bogey Hex?”

“Indeed.”

The giggle she had been trying to swallow escaped. When Draco didn’t react, Pansy let out a loud sigh.

“Come now, Draco. I told you it was a silly idea to follow Umbridge’s orders still. The woman is unhinged.”

“I know that,” he grumbled. 

“And now look at you: attacked by your own bogeys, sitting on the floor of this horrible office where anyone could’ve walked in on you. Were you going to hide away here the rest of the night?” 

Draco scowled.

“I am simply resting.”

“Resting? I see. Were you planning on keeping them there like that?” Pansy motioned to Goyle, Crabbe, Davis, and Bulstrode, who were all Stunned and splayed across the office. 

“Wench took my wand after she hexed me.” 

It made his cheeks burn with shame to admit it. A Weasley had stolen his own wand from him.

Pansy smirked at him before pulling out his wand from where it had been tucked in her waistband. Draco almost groaned in relief at the sight of it. Gratefully, he took it from her. Feeling a tad better, Draco leaned his head back against the wall. He could feel Pansy’s gaze on him but he refused to meet her eyes.

“Where’d you find it?” 

“In the corridor. She must’ve tossed it while they were getting away.” 

“What’s her name?” 

“Hmm?”

“The Weasley girl.” He tried to keep his voice even. “What’s her name?”

Pansy sniffed.

“Ginevra, I believe. I hear the girls in fourth year complaining of her often. She prefers to be called _Ginny_.” Distain coated the nickname when Pansy spat it out but a thrill of… a thrill of _something_ crept up Draco’s back. “I’m surprised you don’t know more of her. She’s the reason Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup this year.”

“Never paid her much mind,” Draco admitted. 

Because he hadn’t. There was no reason to think of the youngest Weasley who had followed Potter around like a shadow for years. Honestly, Draco didn’t even like the fact that he was thinking of her now. If he hadn’t grabbed her, he never would’ve thought of her as anything more than a nuisance. Draco hesitated at his own thoughts, recalling how he froze when he saw her on top of Umbridge’s desk. Reckless, feral, uncontrollable—something like a wildfire. She had the same energy as the heat that had raced through him when they touched.

Draco sighed loudly; he knew he should get up and help his friends. He should probably go get Snape and let him know Umbridge took Potter and Granger somewhere to find some mysterious weapon. But he didn’t want to. All he wanted to do was go down to the Slytherin common room, sneak by the other students, and curl up in his bed. This was not how he thought his day was going to go. 

He brushed his thumb along the mark on his wrist. It tingled at his touch. The mark had never done that before. Draco released a slow breath. 

Shit. This was only going to make things difficult. 

\--


	2. June 29th, 1997

_June 29th, 1997_

_The Great Lake, south of Hogwarts castle_

The mark tingled when Ginny brushed her finger over it. It had never done that before last year and she hated that it did it now. Since she was young, Ginny had been excited over the prospect of finding her soulmate. There was no denying that Ginny was a romantic—she had always loved stories of heroes and maidens and finding true love. She had always been eager to find that someone who was _hers_. For a long while, she had convinced herself it was Harry, despite having interacted with him for years and seeing no signs that it could possibly be true. How many times had she seen his exposed wrist with no marking on it?

But now that she knew who her soulmate was Ginny found the whole thing… forced. Why did this mark on her wrist tell her who she was supposed to end up with? It made no sense, absolutely none. Something she had looked forward to since she was a child she now thought about with dread. If only she hadn’t tried to steal his wand last year, if only she had motioned for Luna to crawl behind Umbridge’s desk instead of doing it herself, if only—

“Are you alright?”

Ginny started, forgetting for a moment that she wasn’t alone. Harry was staring at her, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. Quickly, she forced a smile. 

“Yeah, just thinking about the O.W.L.s.”

It was an easy lie. O.W.L.s were right around the corner and taking up more of Ginny’s time than she liked. Once the tests were done, she’d have more time to spend with Harry and less time worrying about studying. Her forced smile became more relaxed as she shifted towards him. They normally spent their free time together snogging and cuddling, not looking over homework. Today was different; Harry had always been good at Defense Against the Dark Arts and Snape had assigned an annoyingly hard essay for homework. While Harry had been looking it over for her, she had gotten lost in her thoughts.

Ginny lifted her hand and brushed some of the hair out of Harry’s eyes. It was nice being on the same page as Harry. _Finally._ For years, she had hoped something would grow between them and now it was. Something lovely and new and easy.

She let her fingers drift along his cheek, which was pink from the sun. Not for the first time, Ginny wished that a sudden rush of feeling would wash over her when she touched him. The warmth that had coursed through her veins, filling every inch of her body, was a feeling she couldn’t forget. It haunted her late at night when she laid in her bed. Ginny wished it had been Harry whose touch evoked those feelings. Not _him_.

“Ginny.”

“Yeah?” 

“What are you really thinking about?”

He was watching her intensely, ready for her to lie again. Ginny sighed.

They hadn’t talked about soulmates yet. They hadn’t discussed each other’s marks or if Harry knew who his soulmate was or if Ginny had found hers. Ginny didn’t want to talk about it. It would ruin what they had created, were creating, with each other. But she didn’t like lying to Harry. 

“I’ve been thinking about this,” Ginny said, bringing the hand that had lingered by his face into his view. 

She had rolled up her sleeves when they had first stepped outside. Her mark was easily visible now that she held it in front of him. Harry frowned at the sight of it.

“Yeah… I thought so. Is that your mark?”

“Yeah.” She swallowed painfully, lowering her arm into her lap. “You have one too?”

Harry nodded but he didn’t show her it and Ginny didn’t expect him to. When she had run up to him in the Gryffindor common room two months ago, throwing her arms around him and kissing him, she had hoped against all odds she’d somehow feel what she had felt when Malfoy had grabbed her. But she didn’t. Ginny wasn’t Harry’s soulmate and he wasn’t hers. 

“I’m guessing it’s not the same as mine?” Ginny tried to tease but it fell flat.

“No, it’s not,” Harry replied softly.

He reached down and took a hold of her wrist. His thumb lightly brushed over the raised skin.

“Sirius told me my mum and dad were soulmates.”

“Mine are too.”

Her stomach twisted painfully as she watched Harry try to figure out what he wanted to say next. 

“Do you think it matters?” Harry finally asked.

“What’s that?”

“Soulmates. Being—being bonded to some other person that is supposed to be your person. These last two months… I’ve been so happy, Gin.”

Her heart fluttered.

“Me too.”

“I’ve had enough things chosen for me without my saying. _This_ shouldn’t be another thing,” Harry continued, looking up and meeting her gaze. “Right?”

It wasn’t fair, she wanted to scream. None of this was fair. 

“Mum says it’s magic,” she said instead, shrugging. “She used to tell me stories all the time when I was little, about how magic knows who you’re supposed to be with, who will make you happiest, who will make you feel more complete. Mum always told me that I was complete without a soulmate but that being with my soulmate would make me, I don’t know, _more_ complete.”

“Hermione says it’s biology.” Ginny’s eyebrows lifted; most Muggle-born students believed soulmates had more to do with science than magic. Absurd. “That it’s all predetermined and that it’s a part of us, that we can’t change it even if we wanted. It’s easy for her to say—”

“—she found Ron years ago.”

Harry let out a disbelieving laugh and nodded. Ginny couldn’t help but grin. 

“Yeah. They’ve been a pain this year though, even though they know they’re soulmates. Between Lavender and all the fights, that is. I mean, if they know they’re meant to be together, why are they even fighting it?”

The grin slid off Ginny’s face. The question was asked thoughtlessly—he didn’t know her truth— but it didn’t stop a sharp flash of annoyance from coursing through her. If only it were that easy. If only finding your soulmate meant you _liked_ your soulmate. 

Ginny thought back on the moment in Umbridge’s office, reliving it for the hundredth time. She had snatched at Malfoy’s wand and he had grabbed her wrist tight, his fingers digging into her skin, but any pain that should’ve hit her hadn’t. The air around her had seemed to still. Everything went silent. A humming rushed through Ginny’s body, making her warm and tingly all over. It was a pleasant feeling that she sunk into as she kept her eyes on Malfoy. His pupils dilated. 

She had wanted to release her hold of his wand, she had wanted to laugh, she had wanted to cry as the emotions overwhelmed her. Her body seemed to sing, elated at the fact that she had _finally, finally, finally_ found her person. And then Ginny had watched Malfoy’s lips part, his bottom lip fuller than the top, and a surge of _want_ coursed through her so strongly that her breath hitched.

It woke her up from the spell. Ginny had grabbed his wand and hexed him. Ron, Luna, Neville and her had escaped Umbridge’s office and found Harry and Hermione in the Forbidden Forest. 

Ginny dug her fingernails into her palms, forcing herself out of the memory. Harry seemed lost in his own thoughts, his finger still tracing her mark. She wanted to tell him to stop touching it, that it was personal and hers, something she wanted to hide away forever in shame. Instead, she made herself relax.

“I need to go. I promised Luna I’d meet up with her before Charms.”

Harry jolted.

“Sorry, yeah, of course. I can walk you?”

“No, it’s fine.” Ginny gathered her books and threw them messily into her bag. “It’s too nice of a day and you still have time before your next class.”

As she stood up, Harry positioned himself so that he was leaning against the trunk of the tree they had settled under. He watched her thoughtfully as she adjusted the bag’s strap on her shoulder. Then, as she brushed the grass off her skirt, he spoke.

“I was thinking tomorrow we can take the brooms out and fly for a bit? I thought that might be fun.” 

“Yeah. That sounds nice.” 

She waved awkwardly before hurrying to the castle, eager to get away from Harry for once. It wasn’t his fault, it really wasn’t. Ginny simply needed to be away from him in order to clear her mind of soulmates and what happened in Umbridge’s office and Draco—

No. Not Draco. _Malfoy._ Thinking of him as Draco would mean they were _something_ and they weren’t. Just because they were soulmates didn’t make them friends. It didn’t even make them acquaintances! If anything, Ginny should consider him an enemy. No, she _did_ consider him an enemy. Though Ginny had hardly seen Malfoy this school year, it didn’t make him any less horrid. It didn’t suddenly make all the cruel things he had done over the years disappear. 

He wasn’t suddenly some saint!

Really, Ginny should be more critical of him now than ever before. Because, if he was her soulmate, that meant that she was expected to one day accept him despite how horrible he’d been over the years. That she’d want to forgive him. That she would either stop caring that he had called Hermione a Mudblood, that he had bullied Neville to the point of tears countless times, that he had gotten Harry and the twins kicked off the Quidditch team by calling her mum fat and ugly— she’d either not care about all that or she’d someday believe he somehow changed for the better.

“Weasley.”

Ginny stopped walking, her body going tense. She had made it to the Entrance Hall, which was likely the only reason she had heard the soft whisper of her name. There were no other students around, all in class or studying in their common rooms. But he was here, standing on the opposite side of the hall. 

“Malfoy.”

His name came out choked. How ironic that she would run into him now when she was so desperately wanting to clear her mind of him. Ginny wished she had been paying attention to her surroundings better, if only so she knew where he had been coming from or heading to. Now Malfoy was simply leaning against a wall, staring at her. Had he seen her coming and positioned himself there? 

She bit the inside of her cheek, wondering if she was supposed to say something else. They hadn’t been this close to each other since the year before. Honestly, they weren’t even that close to each other now. Rather, they were in the same space as each other, watchful, careful, _aware_. One part of her desperately wanted to grab her wand, just in case. Instinct told her not to worry. 

This was the most she was able to really study him; catching glimpses of him in the corridors or during mealtime over the schoolyear had led her to believe he was the same as last year. That certainly wasn’t true, she realized now. Malfoy had grown. He was tall and thin, almost skeleton like. She frowned. There was something… off about him. It was an odd thing to realize. Perhaps it was the dark bags under his eyes or the hollowness of his cheeks. He was pale, as though he hadn’t been in the sun in ages. Harry had mentioned that he wasn’t playing Quidditch this year.

Why wasn’t he playing Quidditch anymore?

He was anxious, she noted, as his fingers tapped the sides of his legs. And his normally perfect uniform was wrinkled, the shirt slightly untucked, his tie crooked. A strand of hair had come loose, falling in his face. Malfoy looked utterly exhausted, in a way that had settled in his bones. 

But none of that was what was making Ginny so uneasy. 

Ginny’s breath caught when she realized what was making her skin prickle. His eyes were dull, lifeless, flat. Anytime Ginny had seen Draco Malfoy, there had been an energy about him. But now there was nothing. He seemed like a ghost. 

“Are you okay?”

She hadn’t meant to ask the question, to even speak further to Malfoy, but the words left her without permission. Ginny almost cringed, hearing the worry in her voice. It was all she could hope that Malfoy didn’t hear it too. 

He stared at her, his expression unreadable. Ginny had never thought of Malfoy as impassive—if anything, he was all too happy to let everyone know exactly what he was feeling. Dread crept over her. Something was wrong. She _knew_ it.

“No.”

The single word hung between them. Ginny blinked in surprise. His voice was raspy, as if he hadn’t wanted to admit that he wasn’t okay, as if he had tried to keep his answer hidden and it had forced its way out. She exhaled shakily. To be honest, she hadn’t expected him to tell the truth.

“Can I—is there anything—” She fumbled over her words, unsure of what she wanted to offer him. “I can—”

“No,” he said again, easier this time.

Ginny nodded, more to herself than to him, and he cocked his head. 

She wondered if he hated this as much as she did. She wondered what he saw when he looked at her. She wondered if he was trying to think up what to say or if this was all an inconvenience for him as he headed to class. But Malfoy was the one who called out to her, not the other way around. 

Something inside of her ached at the sight of him and she wondered at the feeling. She wanted to cross the Entrance Hall and press her fingers to his wrist, to feel his mark, to see how she’d react to touching him again. The rush of feelings was only to be experienced the first time soulmates touched and never again. But Ginny was rather sure that if she were to brush hands with Malfoy or knock elbows with him or let her fingers explore the sharpness of his face she’d feel _something_. 

Adjusting her bag strap, Ginny licked her lips before walking towards the staircase. There was nothing left to say and the longer she stared at him the more she wanted to touch him. To test their boundaries. To find out what made them click. To figure out if she could discover what was upsetting him by simply staring into his light eyes. It was easy for her to be annoyed with their connection when he wasn’t really present in her life. But having him in front of her like this, seeing him and wondering and thinking, made their bond more fascinating than bothersome. A Weasley and a Malfoy were soulmates. How was that possible? 

She had almost made it to the staircase when her steps faltered. Harry had been spouting dozens of dark theories about Malfoy this year, to the point that Ginny begged him to not speak about Malfoy around her anymore. He had made a lot of accusations with little evidence: that Malfoy was a Death Eater, that he had taken the Dark Mark over the summer, that he was doing Voldemort’s bidding. 

She thought of her first year, about Tom and his manipulation, about how alone she had been as she silently screamed for help.

Ginny glanced over her shoulder, Malfoy’s name already on her tongue, and saw he was still focused on her. It looked like he had been about to say something to her. 

“Malfoy, I—” She paused, unsure of what she wanted to say. She wanted to tell him to stay away from Tom. She wanted to tell him that she had been there too. She wanted to tell him that she hoped Harry was wrong. Instead, she said something else entirely. “I should’ve visited you when you were in the Hospital Wing.”

His eyebrows lifted in surprise; it was perhaps the most expressive he’d been the whole conversation. Ginny twisted her hands together, palms sweaty. 

“Pardon?” he said, prompting her to continue when she had gone silent.

Ginny shook her head, causing some of her hair to escape her clips and fall in her eyes. She shrugged helplessly.

“When Harry—” _attacked you_ , she wanted to say but couldn’t. “—when you and Harry dueled in the loo.”

_When he almost killed you._

She wanted to say it but couldn’t. There was simply no way she could admit to Malfoy that she knew Harry had been in the wrong. Merlin, even Harry had known he had been in the wrong. He used a spell without knowing what it did. It was common sense to never do that. Yet Harry had and Malfoy had almost died because of that decision.

It had been hard to hear Harry tell his side of the story. It felt like a part of her was physically dying, decaying within her, when he recounted the duel. Ginny had thought about sneaking out of her dormitory that night and heading to the Hospital Wing to make sure Malfoy was still alive. She spent that night tossing and turning in bed, images of him dying on the bathroom floor burning bright in her mind. Blood staining his pale skin, his fingers grasping helplessly at the floor, his mouth moving wordlessly—she could hardly breathe as the visions haunted her. Malfoy could’ve died.

Ginny should’ve gone to see him.

“I’m just—I’m sorry I didn’t. That’s all.”

Malfoy stared at her, his eyes brightening ever so slightly. A flush worked its way up her chest before warming her cheeks. Ginny cleared her throat awkwardly, ready to leave, when he spoke.

“Stay in your dormitory tomorrow night, no matter what you hear.”

The clear warning in his voice sent a chill up her spine. She narrowed her eyes and studied his face. He looked… well, he almost looked afraid.

Then the fear was gone and his face was blank again. Ginny wanted to question him, to ask him what he meant, to get more details. She wondered if she should run and tell Dumbledore or Harry or McGonagall. But what would she tell them? That Malfoy gave her a cryptic warning to not leave her bed after dark? Her hesitancy gave Malfoy a chance to turn and walk away, heading towards the dungeons. Something heavy settled in her stomach but she forced herself not to analyze it. Instead, she headed to Charms to find Luna.


	3. November 5th, 1997

_November 5th, 1997_

_Second floor girls’ lavatory, Hogwarts_

It was, without a doubt, one of the most disgusting places Draco had ever seen. The candles burned low in their holders; it always took a minute for his eyes to adjust when he walked in. Water dampened the tile floor and he could hear every footstep he took because of it. One of the bathroom stall doors was almost completely off its’ hinges. The air had a stale smell to it as if there hadn’t been another person moving about in there for days. If his mother or father knew he was spending his time here, they would… Well. It didn’t matter. It was the only place Draco could relax. 

His shoulders hunched as he walked further into the bathroom and he closed his eyes. Like every other time he had come here, warmth enveloped him. Draco slowly shrugged off his school robes and discarded them in a sink nearby. The tie around his neck was tight, straight, the picture of perfection that he strove for. As he approached the stalls, his fingers worked at loosening it. 

Draco breathed out slowly through his nose. 

“Myrtle?” 

His voice echoed and he paused, waiting to hear the ghost reply. Silence greeted him. Draco moved further into the bathroom. Each stall was empty when he pushed the doors open with the tip of his shoe. She wasn’t here. Odd. Myrtle had taken to hanging out here most days, as Draco refused to meet her in the boys’ loo on the sixth floor. Even if he was able to walk into that bathroom without a sharp, dizzying fear taking over, he wouldn’t be safe there. Though Potter was no longer at Hogwarts, there were worse enemies who watched him for weakness now. 

No, only the girls’ bathroom that Myrtle had haunted for decades would do. The Carrows didn’t like the sight of the ghost and Snape refused to be bothered enough to get the Ministry to relocate her so, as it had been since Draco started at the school, everyone avoided this loo. It was his safe haven in a way. 

Draco leaned against the wall and tipped his head back. Other than the occasional drip of water or gargle of pipes, it was wonderfully silent. He closed his eyes again. In the silence, he could _feel_ the blood rushing through his veins. He was still alive. He was going to make it through this day and he would make it through the next. He had to. If he continued to keep his head down, if he remained impassive when the Carrows taunted his fellow classmates, if he remained still when they tortured other students, he’d be fine—as long as it wasn’t him or Pansy or Gregory or… 

_Ginny._

The mere thought of her made the mark on his wrist tingle. He wished he was still unbothered by the existence of the witch but he wasn’t. She lingered in his thoughts on days he didn’t see her. When he did see her, it was both a relief and a burden. Really, Ginny shouldn’t be here at Hogwarts. It was dangerous for everyone, even him, but especially her. 

Without thought, his thumb found his mark and traced it. Draco wished he had never grabbed her that day in Umbridge’s office. They had avoided each other for ages, orbiting around each other but rarely interacting. If only she hadn’t gone for his wand, if only he hadn’t reacted so quickly… But none of that mattered now. Draco sighed. 

For the first time in a long time, Draco was utterly alone. Usually he had Myrtle to talk to. She was one of the few people he knew who didn’t judge him horribly despite having seen him at his worst. Myrtle listened to his pain and his worries and she tried to comfort him. But there was really no comfort to be had. Draco felt like he was barely holding on. 

If he hadn’t let the Death Eaters in last year, would this all still be happening? Snape as Headmaster, the Carrows torturing students, the world darkening around them… Draco wasn’t sure. He found it hard to believe that he had changed the course of the war by following the Dark Lord’s orders. He had only been sixteen. But the guilt never left him; at night, he heard Dumbledore’s last words to him as though the old man was in the room with him, telling Draco he could help him still. 

A door opened and shut softly but it was loud in the silence of the room. Draco’s eyes snapped open and he yanked out his wand. It quivered in his hand as he pushed off the wall and locked gazes with— 

“Weasley?” 

He stared at her, sure he was hallucinating, perhaps seeing her in the shadows only because he had been thinking of her. But then she took a small step forward and the light from the candles brightened her face, despite how warily she stared back at him. It was her. Draco lowered his wand. 

She had certainly seen better days. Her hair was pulled back from her face, restrained by clips, but it only managed to show off the dark skin under her eyes, the tightness of her mouth, the purple bruise that colored her cheek. Draco tilted his head; if the rumors were true, Ginny had tried to steal something from Snape’s office, likely resulting in the bruise on her face. But who knew? She had been at odds with the Carrows and Snape since the first day of school, racking up multiple detentions alongside Longbottom. 

“Malfoy.” 

Ginny edged closer, ever so slightly. Her chest rose and fell with quick breaths. She had been running from someone; likely Amycus Carrow, who taught the Dark Arts on this floor. Draco tried not to frown, wondering what she had seen that sent her hurrying here. 

After a moment, in which it was clear Ginny was assessing him with her dark eyes, she shrugged off the strap on her shoulder and lowered her bag into a sink beside his discarded robes. She clearly found him not be a threat; he wasn’t sure if that pleased him or not. Glancing at herself in the mirror, Ginny grimaced slightly before approaching Draco. He put away his wand before leaning back against the wall once more. She lifted her eyebrows before settling against the wall beside him. If he reached out, he could touch her. 

They were silent for a while. Draco listened to her breathing, as it became steady and even once more. He tried not to stare at her, instead looking straight ahead. But he could still see her in his peripheral; she looked exhausted, like she was barely able to keep herself standing up straight. The guilt that seemed to be constantly eating at him made itself known once more. 

“You tried to warn me.” 

Draco glanced at her, unable to stop himself. She was gnawing on her bottom lip, which already looked chapped and red. He held back a sigh. Of course he knew what she was referring to: last year when they had run into each other in the Entrance Hall. 

“I _did_ warn you,” Draco corrected when she didn’t continue. 

“Why?” 

The single word clawed at him, mocking him. It had been a reckless decision to warn her to stay in her dormitory but he had done it anyway. For months after, he wondered why he had said anything to her at all. He had hated himself for it—yet, at the same time, he wished he had done more. 

“ _Why?_ ” He mimicked, scowling sharply. “You sound rather ungrateful, Weasley. Not that you listened to my advice either way.” 

No, instead of staying safe in the Gryffindor tower like he had told her to, she ran into the battle with little concern for her own wellbeing. The bloody fool. Ginny clenched her jaw as she glared at him. 

“You told me to stay in my dormitory.” 

“I’m aware of what I said.” 

“I could’ve gone to Harry or my brother or even Dumbledore—” 

“Yet you didn’t.” 

“No. I wish I had.” 

The honesty in her voice hit him like a slap to the face. He pressed his lips together, fighting the urge to scream or cry or laugh. More times than not, he wished someone would’ve stopped him too. 

“Why did you tell me to hide away, Draco?” 

His name left her mouth softly, cautiously, as though she was testing it out. He wanted to scold her, to threaten her, to tell her to never speak his first name again. Instead Draco closed his eyes and let her voice wash over him. It seemed familiar in a way, the way she said his name—it reminded him of his mother calling for him or Pansy or Gregory. 

“Why did you tell me you regretted not visiting me after Potter attacked me?” 

He felt her tense beside him. 

“It’s only fair,” he said, voice low. “Why are you the only one allowed to ask personal questions?” 

Draco wanted to sound confident, sure of himself and his position in this conversation, but he wasn’t sure he managed it. He opened his eyes and found her studying him. 

“I don’t know,” Ginny admitted. 

“Come now. There must’ve been a reason. Your boyfriend had attacked me, almost killed me, yet you wanted to come check on me. Was it remorse?” 

“No!” 

“Did a part of you hate the fact that you were dating the assailant?” 

“Oh, fuck off—” 

“It’s only a question, Ginny,” Draco hissed. 

Her cheeks reddened; Draco could almost feel the rage vibrating off of her. If they were dueling, she’d certainly hit him with a powerful curse now. For a brief moment, he recalled seeing Ginny standing on Umbridge’s desk, having just thrown a plate at him, her hair as wild as her. His stomach clenched. To be honest, he wasn’t sure why he was being cruel to her. Perhaps because it was easier than being nice to her. This was their relationship, after all. They weren’t friends, they were enemies. They were soulmates who didn’t want to be each other’s soulmates. 

His stomach twisted, as though he had told a lie. 

Ginny pushed off the wall and walked over to the sink. She grabbed her bag and looked ready to leave, fists clenched at her side. But then she turned to face him, jaw lifted. 

“It had nothing to do with Harry.” 

Draco frowned. She looked as though she was standing on the edge of a building and she wasn’t sure whether to step off or not. His breathing slowed as he watched her think about her choices. Then the rage left her. Somehow, Draco knew she had chosen to take the plunge off the edge. 

“I had dreamt of you,” Ginny admitted quietly but her voice still seemed to echo. It rang in his ears. He felt like she stole his breath from his lungs. “I kept seeing you on the bathroom floor, all bloody and helpless and…” 

He knew he should probably say something as she struggled to find her words but he couldn’t. Ginny looked incredibly unsure of herself. This admittance meant _something_. Ginny was being open with him and she was aware of it. It meant something. 

“I’ve been so angry with you. You warned me because you knew it was going to be dangerous. But you still let them in. They killed Dumbledore. My brother, he was attacked by Fenrir—he almost died! And you had planned it, you _planned_ it,” she said, her voice watery. 

“What would you have liked me to have done?” he snapped, hating that he was the cause of the tears she was barely holding back. “Tell me! What should I have done?” 

“Fought against _him_! Talked to Dumbledore! Talked to anyone!” 

“I had thought it was an honor he bestowed on me,” Draco admitted desperately, easily remembering how excited he had been when he found out his orders from the Dark Lord. “I thought it meant he trusted me! When I realized—when I realized I was going to fail—it was too late. He would have killed my parents. I wouldn’t let them die because of my mistake.” 

Her lower lip was trembling but Draco wasn’t sure if it was with rage or sorrow. He took a shuddered breath and felt the air rattle inside of him. He was sorry, he was so sorry, he only wished he could admit that out loud to her. He should’ve been smarter, he should’ve realized the Dark Lord expected him to fail, he should’ve understood his mother’s panic. He had been so young then, he realized, and now he felt so incredibly old and worn. 

“He can be incredibly manipulative.” 

Draco focused on Ginny when she spoke and was surprised to see a hard, blazing look had settled in her eyes. 

“I’ve been so angry with you but… but I understand why you did what you did. I only wish you hadn’t. I wish things had been different. I wish…” She shrugged. “I should’ve asked you what you meant when you warned me to hide away.” 

“I wouldn’t have told you.” 

“Really?” 

Ginny lifted her eyebrows and he scowled. 

“Of course not.” 

“Okay.” 

“I really wouldn’t have!” he insisted. 

“Okay,” she said again. “I just… I’ve been there before, sort of. Where I only needed someone to ask me what was wrong, if I was okay, if they could help… instead no one did and I ended up getting caught up in something incredibly dangerous.” 

Draco opened his mouth, to ask her what she meant or to tell her it couldn’t possibly have been as dire as his situation had been or to inform her she was right, he probably would’ve told her everything if she had only asked him further, but she waved her hand at him to silence him. 

“I should go.” 

She motioned to the exit and he realized this was goodbye. 

“Wait,” he called when she began to walk away. Ginny hesitated but didn’t turn. “Ginny, wait.” 

At the sound of her name, Ginny faced him. Draco approached her and, before he could tell himself not to, held his hand out to her, palm facing up. His fingers were trembling. He knew that it was only the first time soulmates touched that they experienced the wave of emotion, the righting of the world, the pause of time. He _knew_ that. But Ginny was about to leave their temporary safe haven and reenter the dangerous world outside of it. Anything could happen in the coming weeks. War was here and they were both on the wrong side of it. 

This could be the last conversation they ever had. 

She seemed to know what he was asking her, her lips parting and her cheeks flushing. Ginny stepped closer to him again. Then, without any hesitation, she reached out and brushed her fingertips along the palm of his hand. Her hand was smaller than his and her touch was light. Draco wanted to laugh. He wanted to grab her hand and pull her towards him and tell her not to go out there alone, that it was dangerous, that he was sorry and it was all his fault. Instead he watched as her freckled fingers traced the lines of his palm. 

She stepped away, clutching her hands into fists. 

“Don’t die, okay?” Ginny said before turning and leaving.


	4. August 23rd, 1998

_August 23rd, 1998_

_Tearoom, Basement Level 4, Ministry of Magic_

Really, she shouldn’t be here. Ginny knew that. Over the past month, Ginny had known she should stay at home and ignore what her instinct was telling her to do. This was stupid and irresponsible and confusing. It was reckless. The Ministry of Magic employed her dad, Percy, Ron, Hermione, and Harry. If any one of them spotted her and asked her why she was here she was sure they’d be able to call her bluff. 

Normally Ginny was rather good at lying. Today, however, her nerves were getting the best of her. She could barely sit still, her fingers picking at a small hole in her tights. It was only going to make the hole larger, ruin the tights further, but she couldn’t stop. For the first time in a long time, she felt the uncontrollable desire to cry. It was exhausting keeping the urge at bay.

Sighing, Ginny rested her head on the tabletop and let her hair block her view of the room. She could still leave. There was time, she was sure of it. If she left now, no one would know she had come here. There’d be no questions and she wouldn’t have to lie. No one would be disappointed in her. 

She just wasn’t entirely sure she wouldn’t be disappointed in herself.

The room was quiet other than soft music playing from an unknown source. It didn’t help ease Ginny’s nerves. She lifted her head warily and ran her fingers through her hair; she winced when they caught the occasional knot. To be honest, she had been surprised she was given permission to come here. Writing the owl, asking to schedule an appointment or visit or _anything_ , so close to the court date had seemed impossible. Yet she received the yes and the date and time—it still seemed impossible.

She heard footsteps before she saw the two figures outside the door. Straightening in her seat, Ginny suddenly wished she had spent more time on her hair and makeup. Lack of sleep from the night before probably made her look horrid. Not that it mattered, really. Draco had seen her look far worse.

The door was pushed open and she heard an unfamiliar voice.

“—in here, Mister Malfoy. You have only a few minutes before we must be moving again. Shout if you need anything, yes? I’ll be right outside the door to make sure no one disrupts you.”

Draco stepped into the tiny tearoom, his eyes sweeping it before settling on her. He didn’t look surprised to see her. If anything, it seemed like tension left his body at the sight of her. Ginny worried at her bottom lip. He looked tired; she tried to remember the last time he didn’t look absolutely exhausted and she immediately recalled the smug boy from Umbridge’s office. That seemed so long ago now.

“Malfoy,” Ginny greeted but his name tasted wrong on her tongue, sounded wrong to own ears. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Draco.”

Draco had lost weight since the last time she had spoken to him. Considering the circumstances, Ginny couldn’t say she was surprised. His hand twitched at his side before he walked up and took the seat across from her. A hesitant smile broke out across her face. As much as she worried over whether she should or shouldn’t come, seeing him now made her feel like perhaps she had made the right choice. She could only hope he felt the same way.

“Ginny.” 

Her name left his mouth slow, sweet, so at odds with his demeanor—it was as if he savored saying it. She shivered. He noticed.

“I brought you coffee.”

Ginny motioned to the two coffee cups on the table. Draco’s eyes flitted down to them and his eyebrows lifted.

“How did you get that in here?”

“What do you mean? I walked in with it.”

He took a hold of the cup of coffee that obviously hadn’t been touched yet, popping off the lid and peering inside. She hadn’t added anything to it, completely unsure of how Draco would take his coffee. 

“Pansy and Gregory had tried to bring me sweets earlier,” Draco said. “Security made them toss it in order to see me.”

“Really?” she asked, lifting her cup to her lips.

“Indeed. They were worried the food was poisoned.”

“They thought Parkinson was going to poison you?” Ginny choked on her coffee. “That’s mad! Though, I suppose, she might poison you to get you out of this situation.”

She was pleasantly surprised to see the corner of his lip lift in a familiar smirk. It made him look younger again, normal, like the boy she had known before everything changed. 

“I believe they fear that someone could have poison the food without her knowing.” He paused. “Should I be worried about what’s in this coffee?”

Instead of answering, Ginny rolled her eyes. His smirk widened.

“I thought this coffee would probably taste better than the Ministry’s. I’ve had it a handful of times when I’ve come here for lunch with my dad and it’s always a struggle to not spit it out.”

Draco took a sip of his drink without adding anything to it. He closed his eyes as he did so before opening them again and peering at her.

“My lawyer had said I had a visitor. Someone important who wished to speak to me before my trial. I hadn’t been sure why we were heading to the department that regulated magical creatures to meet this important person but I have a feeling now it likely has to do with the fact that you have so many family members that work here. Didn’t want to be seen?”

She bit back a scowl. He was far too observant. When his lips pressed together in amusement, Ginny wrinkled her nose. 

“Yeah, I asked him if I could see you beforehand.”

“Why?”

Why? 

Ginny had asked Draco last year why he had warned her to not stray from her dormitory the night he let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts. She had questioned him on it as though she had not known the truth of the matter. But, of course, Ginny knew why he had told her to hide away. It was the same reason she had secretly shown up to the Ministry to see him.

They bore the same mark on their wrists. They were soulmates. He was her person and she was his person, whether they liked it or not. Hermione always said it was biology that linked soulmates to each other. Her mum had always said it was magic. Either way, there was no denying that Draco and Ginny were bonded. Now that there was no war looming over them, Ginny found it easier to accept the fact that they were connected.

Even if they weren’t bonded, Ginny was rather sure she’d still be incredibly worried over the fate of him. In less than an hour, Draco would go on trial, accused of serving Voldemort during his reign. The Dark Mark on his arm branded him guilty. He had to convince the jury that he was innocent. She couldn’t begin to imagine what he was going through. Since he was a child when he got the Dark Mark, and with Harry’s recommendation, Draco had been put on house arrest over the summer while his lawyer and the courts gathered their evidence. But his day of reckoning had finally arrived.

“I needed…” She faltered when she saw how bright his eyes burned as he waited for her answer. “I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“And how do I seem to you?”

Her eyes traced over him, noting the sharpness of his cheekbones, the restless tap of his fingers, the way his shoulders were hunched as though he was trying to hide away.

“Well, you’ve certainly had better days, I would say,” Ginny replied lightly.

“I take offense to that.”

“As you should.”

He made a sound in his throat; it sounded like laughter that he refused to let see the light of day. She grinned and relaxed ever so slightly. 

“Are you nervous?” 

His amusement left him at her question as quickly as it had arrived. A scowl danced across his lips and he leaned back in his chair, pushing his coffee away. 

“Parkinson and Goyle were found innocent of all charges,” Ginny said to fill the silence. “I read it in the Prophet. You’ll likely—”

“Pansy and Gregory did not let Death Eaters into Hogwarts. They did not allow him to burn his mark into their arm. They ran away during the Final Battle; they did not stay to fight,” Draco interrupted stiffly. “Do not compare them to me.”

“You were a child. We were all children. People make mistakes!” 

He clenched his jaw.

“Weasley.”

“I’m only saying that the Ministry will hear what you have to say. They _will_ , I know it. It isn’t like before—”

“Weasley, stop.”

“—then you can leave this all behind you and get on with your life—”

“ _Ginny!_ ” Draco snapped, slamming his palms down on the tabletop. Ginny jumped, not realizing she had been rambling until then. “You’re not here for me, are you?”

She frowned.

“Who else would I be here for?”

“Yourself, perhaps. How would you live with yourself if your soulmate was a convicted Death Eater sent to Azkaban to pay for his crimes?”

She stilled as though he had hit her with a spell. It was the first time either of them had said the word out loud; that either of them had admitted to the mark on their wrist. In a way, Ginny was surprised that Draco was the first one to say it. But his words hit her with a wave of shame. That wasn’t why she was here, it _wasn’t_. 

Doubt crept in, though, hot and sickly, making her nauseous as she stared into his knowing eyes.

“Does Potter know?” Draco asked after a stretch of silence. “Does he know who your soulmate is? Who you’re meant to end up with?”

She lifted her chin, opening her mouth to respond, but Draco didn’t give her the chance.

“Does he know you’re here right now? That you’ve come to see me, to make me feel better before my trial?” At some point while he spoke, he shifted closer in his chair, leaning across the table towards her. “Don’t worry, Ginny, I won’t tell—”

“Stop being a miserable prick,” Ginny growled, narrowing her eyes. “I told no one I was coming to see you. Is that what you want to hear? I told no one I was coming to see you and I’ve told no one that you’re my—my person—”

“Your _person_?” Draco repeated.

“Yeah, my person! Soulmate just sounds too—too strange.” The tension in the room dissipated as they stared at each other. “Have you told anybody?”

He shifted back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. 

“My mother.”

“Your mother?”

Merlin. Narcissa Malfoy knew that her only child’s soulmate was a Weasley? That must’ve been quite a scene when Draco told her. Ginny bit her lip, fighting the bubble of laughter that was trying to escape. 

“Is that funny to you?”

“No, no!” Ginny said, waving her hands to try to calm him. But she began giggling. “I’m sorry, really. I’m glad you told your mum. I just—she must’ve been furious.”

Draco looked entirely unamused, which only made it harder for Ginny to stem her laughter.

“Don’t worry,” he drawled. “She reminded me that Malfoys don’t concern themselves with soulmates. We’ve preferred arranged marriages for generations now.”

Ginny blinked.

“So even if you know who your soulmate is, your parents would still prefer to arrange a marriage for you?”

“Indeed.”

What a sad thought. She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she mulled it over. It’d felt like ages now since she had known Draco was her soulmate but it had only been two years. They had changed so much since then. But the idea of them growing into anything more than what they were now was… well, it was… 

Ginny peered at him, wondering if her feelings had changed at all for the man in front of her. She certainly had never been fond of him before and she wasn’t sure she was now. He was rude and insensitive and mean when he felt cornered. But he had survived a lot; he was strong in a way he didn’t realize. On occasion, Draco even made her smile. There was something easy about sitting with him, something that calmed the storm inside of her.

Would she be upset if he were to marry someone else one day? Was he promised to someone already and she simply didn’t know?

A chill crept down her spine.

“Mister Malfoy.” A man peered into the tearoom. It was Draco’s lawyer. “We must be going. We still need to head down to Level 10.”

It was time. Ginny snuck a look at Draco. He had gone pale and swallowed thickly before nodding. His lawyer went back into the corridor as Draco stood from his seat. She stood also, twisting her hands in front of her.

“You’ll be fine,” she told him softly.

“There’s no guarantee of that.”

Her breath caught. In that moment, Draco looked like a child, lost and scared. Narcissa Malfoy was still being held in Azkaban, awaiting her own trial. Parkinson and Goyle were likely already in the courtroom; unlike years before, the courts were now open to public. But that left Draco alone. 

“I’m sorry that your mum isn’t here.”

He frowned and she realized how sad she had sounded when she spoke. She tried to smile at him—the last thing he needed was to get any more upset—but it felt weak. 

“Yes, well,” he paused, as though trying to figure out the right words to speak. “At least I have you, Weasley.”

Draco looked away from her, seeming embarrassed, and Ginny was glad for it. A hot flush had colored her cheeks at his words and she wasn’t sure she would’ve been able to hide the pleasant surprise in her eyes. By the time he glanced at her, she had better control of herself.

“Yeah, of course,” she responded.

Then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, Ginny held her palm out to him. His lips curled into a tiny smile when he noticed. He reached out, covering her hand with his before tracing the length of her fingers with his own. Ginny’s heart skipped a beat.

“If you get sent to Azkaban, will you write me?” 

She said it without thinking and Draco let out a sharp, surprised laugh. He cocked his head.

“Yes, I suppose.”

And then Draco turned and left, leaving without a backwards glance.


	5. December 19th, 1998

_December 19th, 1998_

_The Three Broomsticks Inn, Hogsmeade ___

__There were students everywhere. Draco frowned at the sight of them, feeling so much older than them even though he really wasn’t. He shrugged off his winter cloak and placed it neatly beside him. Getting a Butterbeer had been a hassle. Finding a table had been even worse. He had warned Ginny that Hogsmeade would be a mad house this time of year and that the Three Broomsticks would be unbearable. But she refused to go to Hog’s Head, despite being aware that it would be less busy._ _

__This was the most people he had been around in a while also, which didn’t help his nerves. He felt jumpy, anxious, and was all too aware that at any point someone could notice who he was and challenge him to a duel. It was likely no one would stop the fight either. The Malfoy name wasn’t very popular these days._ _

__Draco cupped his pint of Butterbeer, forcing himself to stop thinking about what a horrible idea this was. Instead he looked over the Three Broomsticks, hoping to catch sight of the witch he had come here for. It was only a few minutes after he started looking that the entrance door opened with a burst of wind and snow. Ginny stumbled in, clutching her hat so it didn’t blow off her head. She forced the door shut again with the help of another student._ _

__His lips curled into a tiny smile at the sight of her._ _

__Merlin, she was a mess. He watched her thank the random student before she began scanning the inn for him. His stomach tightened; it was strange to watch her try to find him. Her lips were pursed and she was rubbing her arms, trying to get warmth into them, and—ah, she found him. Ginny’s face brightened at the sight of him and Draco felt his cheeks redden. She waved to him before she made her way over._ _

__“It’s bloody freezing out! Oh, is that a Butterbeer for me? You’re too kind,” she said when she finally reached him._ _

__She took her cloak off and tossed it on top of his carelessly. His nose scrunched but she didn’t notice, sitting down across from him instead._ _

__“This place is packed.”_ _

__“I told you we should’ve gone to Hog’s Head,” Draco said stiffly._ _

__“That you did.”_ _

__“Yet you bullied me into coming here.”_ _

__“I don’t know that _bullied_ is the right word,” Ginny said, her smile a tad too innocent. “It was a simple suggestion.”_ _

__She grabbed the extra Butterbeer on the table and wrapped her fingers around it, letting out a happy groan._ _

__“It’s much more festive in here too. The Hog’s Head wouldn’t look nearly as cheerful.”_ _

__“Perhaps that’s why I like it.”_ _

__“Don’t be such a bore, Draco,” she teased._ _

__A thrill went through him. It had been almost four months since his trial, four months since she came to see him at the Ministry to make sure he was okay, and… things were different between them now. Draco couldn’t be sure what changed but something had. It could’ve been because he had been so incredibly grateful for her compay before the trial, and she stayed even when he was cruel. Or perhaps it was because he had spied her in the back of the courtroom, nervously chewing her fingernails throughout the whole proceeding. She hadn’t told him she was going to stay and watch but she _had_. Despite how terrified he had been, it had comforted him to see her. _ _

__No matter the reason, after he was found innocent, mostly because of Potter’s testimony, he had headed to Malfoy Manor and wrote Ginny a letter. Despite not being sent to Azkaban, he figured there was nothing to lose with still writing her. It had been a simple thank you, nothing much, but she had written him back the next morning and they had corresponded daily since then. The letters were usually short and quick, just a thought or two that the other person would reply to when they had time. But they were friendly, heartening, nice. Draco enjoyed them far more than he should._ _

__Ginny took a large gulp of her Butterbeer, swished it around in her mouth, swallowed it, and leaned forward._ _

__“Thank you for meeting me.”_ _

__Draco lifted one shoulder in a shrug._ _

__“I’ve nothing better to do,” he replied._ _

__She rolled her eyes._ _

__“I wasn’t sure the next time we’d see each other. Quidditch practices are taking up all my time right now—studying too. And I wanted to see you before the holidays. Mum invited all my brothers to the Burrow, of course, so I wasn’t sure I’d have much time to write you. It’ll be a mad house, worse than here! I’m excited though…” She paused in her rambling before lowering her voice. “You look well.”_ _

__Her gaze traced over him, gentle and pleased. Draco wanted to scoff at the look but found he couldn’t. The past four months he spent a lot more time with his mother. After the war, after everything that happened, after his father was sent to Azkaban, they grew closer. They tried to clean the manor, tried to be more honest with each other, and were constantly checking in to make sure they were both _okay_. When he wasn’t with his mother, he was spending time at Blaise’s new flat with Gregory and Pansy. He finally had an appetite again and the group took advantage of it by exploring Blaise’s neighborhood pubs. He was sleeping most nights for more than a few hours and he had enough energy to get on his broom and fly through the woods behind Malfoy Manor, enjoying the rush of the wind and the sun on his face._ _

__“I feel better. Much better,” Draco finally said, tilting his head to the side. “You look well also.”_ _

__And she did. Her hair was longer than before, messy and curly and windswept. There were no dark bags under her bright eyes, no anxiety radiating off of her, no cruel set of her mouth. Ginny grinned and Draco tried not to smile back; she looked _happy_ without trying to. He wasn’t sure he had ever seen her look this way before._ _

__“Yeah, well, Mum has been stuffing me full of pies and tarts all summer. She said I was too skinny. Thought I was going to be ill from all the sweets.”_ _

__Draco nodded slowly. Hearing about her family life, about her mother and father, made him a tad uncomfortable. She mentioned her family without thinking, a note of affection always coloring her words. He began to get a better view of the home she had grown up in: warm, welcoming, full of life. Whenever he thought of it, something inside him squirmed. How many times had he mocked her home, calling it a barn or a pigsty? The fact that he had also insulted most of Ginny’s family, their lifestyle, their lack of wealth, for the majority of his life didn’t help. He wished, not for the first time, that he had held his tongue more at Hogwarts._ _

__Recently, when he’d find himself alone at night, rereading a letter she had sent him, Draco would wish that he would’ve accidentally knocked into her years before. That, maybe, they would’ve found out they were soulmates when they were still young and the animosity between them hadn’t grown. Ginny had told him that they met for the first time in Flourish and Blotts before her first year; he wished they would’ve touched for the first time then. He wished he could remember seeing her._ _

__Draco shifted in his seat._ _

__“There’s another reason I wanted to see you,” Ginny said, forcing Draco’s attention back on her._ _

__“Hmm?”_ _

__“I, um, I wanted to speak to you about something. That I didn’t want to send to you over Owl, that is.”_ _

__He swallowed thickly, noting how quickly Ginny got nervous. She was picking at the edge of the table as she gnawed on her lip. But her eyes were on him, large and hesitant._ _

__“Go on, then,” he said, trying to keep the words even as they rushed to escape him._ _

__“I want us to be friends, Draco.”_ _

__Well, that was… not what he was expecting. His eyebrows furrowed. Suddenly the past four months, which had seemed pleasant and easy, were thrown into chaos._ _

__“Are we not friends now?” Draco questioned slowly._ _

__“I don’t know. Are we?” Ginny frowned. “This is coming out wrong. We _are_ friends. I want us to be, I don’t know, _better_ friends. Hermione showed me an article recently on soulmates. It tried to explain what a soulmate was better than the same old _‘person who completes you’_ deal.”_ _

__She gave exaggerated quotes with her fingers as she spoke._ _

__“And?”_ _

__“ _And_ it said that soulmates are more than a romantic partner. They’re meant to be your best friend, your confidante, your comfort, but that it’ll never be perfect. I mean, I look at Ron and Hermione—it took them ages to get it right! They still bicker and argue and storm off, so I’m not sure how right they got it right but—”_ _

__“Were you looking for our relationship to be perfect?” he asked, surprised._ _

__Her freckled cheeks flushed. The press had rumored since the end of the war that Potter and Ginny were no longer an item, that they had never picked up where they left off. Draco had always assumed there was no truth to the story, that the press was simply trying to sell papers, but now… The idea that Ginny had been reading articles about soulmates, that she wanted to strengthen their relationship, made his chest constrict._ _

__This wasn’t how he expected this meetup to go. Suddenly, the crowd of people around them seemed to be pressing in. A faint sweat broke out across his forehead. Fuck. What was going on?_ _

__“Draco,” she called softly and he focused on her. “I’m messing this all up. I never wanted to have this bloody mark on my wrist determine my life. I mean, I know that it’s supposed to be fate or magic or whatever but it still doesn’t seem _fair_. But… but I can’t help but want to explore it a bit now. Especially since I’ve come to realize you’re not a complete git. I think we could be great friends.”_ _

__She wanted more than the letter writing. Confidante, Ginny had said. Comfort. She wanted to explore their relationship more. She wanted them to be great friends. The nerves that had hit him abruptly left him; he felt shaky from the rush. Ginny didn’t seem to mind his silence, instead leaning her chin in her hand as she stared out the window behind him. As he inhaled and exhaled slowly, it no longer felt like everyone around him was crowding in. He brushed his hand along his forehead, hoping she hadn’t seen the sweat._ _

__“The Holyhead Harpies offered me a contract for when I finish school.”_ _

__He looked at her quickly, jaw dropping. His previous worries left him._ _

__“Pardon?”_ _

__She smiled._ _

__“It’s true. They did.” Ginny laughed. “I’m pretty sure I’m going to sign it.”_ _

__“As you should! Teams don’t normally offer contracts to players still in school. Usually, one would have to go through a whole recruiting process—”_ _

__“It’s not like I’ll be playing right away. They want me as backup for one of their Chasers, Uribe. There’s been rumors of her retiring for years now. I don’t think she will for a few more seasons, not yet, but they want me to start training right after I graduate and get used to the team.”_ _

__“I heard rumors of Uribe leaving also but I doubt it’ll happen. Have you had other offers? Were they scouting your school matches?”_ _

__“They must’ve been.”_ _

__Ginny had always been a wonderful Quidditch player, he knew. Suddenly, he wished he could sneak onto Hogwarts’ grounds and watch one of her games. He could almost hear the roar of the crowd._ _

__“Or, perhaps, they want to secure a war hero on their team,” Draco said, smirking._ _

__“Oh, shut up, Malfoy,” Ginny replied, grinning._ _

__She ran her finger across the table, her eyes tracking it, before she glanced up. Her amusement was still painted on her face but it was clear she was thinking over something. He waited, knowing she’d tell him whatever it was when she ready. Around them, students laughed and chatted._ _

__“I’ll put you on the list to see me.”_ _

__“Pardon?”_ _

__“The family and friend list that grants access to the Quidditch field before and after games,” she explained. “When I start playing for the Harpies, I’ll put your name on the list. If you ever want to come to a game or want to come see me beforehand or… or anything… you’ll be able to.”_ _

__Draco hoped he looked unaffected by her offer but he wasn’t sure he succeeded. Something warm spread through him that made it hard to breathe. He wasn’t sure what the feeling was but he couldn’t deny that he liked it, that he wanted to cling to it. Ginny offered him a small smile, personal and genuine._ _

__He wondered if she knew that, four months ago, he had told his lawyer to let Ginny see him if she ever asked. He wondered if she knew that he had hoped, prayed even, that she would reach out to him before his trial. Draco hadn’t been sure why he had so desperately wanted to see her but the anguish had curled deep inside of him, buried itself in him like a parasite, hungry and cruel. It wasn’t until he walked into that tearoom and saw her worriedly sitting at a table that the horrible thing inside him died._ _

__“I’d like that,” he finally managed to say._ _

__She nodded._ _

__“Me too.”_ _


	6. April 8th, 2000

_April 8th, 2000_

_Quidditch stadium, Bodmin Moor, Cornwall_

The roar of the crowd was deafening. Her fellow teammates ran up and grabbed her in quick hugs, screaming in her ear. Ginny couldn’t hear anything they said to her. She noted their smiles, watched as they jumped up and down, let them pass her to the next teammate to be embraced, but she felt like she could barely process what was happening.

The Harpies had won the game. Ginny had scored and their Seeker had grabbed the Snitch and the Harpies had _won_. 

She wasn’t supposed to play today. When Ginny had woken up that morning, she had gone about her routine with no idea that she’d be put in the match. If she had known, she would’ve written her parents and brothers, she would’ve told them to come, she would’ve begged them to be there to support her. They had been to most of her matches already, even though she was still a reserve and wasn’t playing. But this match no one she knew was able to show up. 

At the time, Ginny hadn’t cared. After all, she wasn’t going to play. She’d be watching from the sidelines, drenched in frustration as she watched her team struggle and fight for a win. But Uribe had been injured suddenly during practice. The coaches told Ginny as everyone changed in the locker room that they’d be putting her in the game instead of Uribe. She had no time to tell anyone that she’d be playing in her first real match. No one knew. And they had _won_.

Confetti fell from the sky. 

Ginny glanced up at it. Red and blue and yellow and green and purple. Holding her hand out in front of her, Ginny watched as confetti landed in her palm. This felt like a dream. It didn’t feel real. Her lips twitched into a frown; she wanted to cry but she wasn’t sure why. Was she happy or sad? Could she be both at the same time, so overwhelmed by such opposite feelings that she couldn’t even begin to sort them out?

Someone called her name. Ginny stilled, unsure of how she had managed to hear the familiar voice through the rumble of the crowd. She looked up and let out a choked laugh. 

Draco waved awkwardly when he caught her attention. He looked ridiculous standing on the field in his fancy black robes, hair gelled back, with an uncomfortable set to his mouth while confetti fell around him. Ginny had never been so happy to see him. A pleasant buzzing swept through her body as they walked towards each other. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked loudly, hoping to be heard over the shouting and applauding.

He lowered his head down towards her—Merlin, she forgot how tall he was—so that he could hear her better. She could smell his cologne and she couldn’t help but hope she didn’t reek terribly of sweat and grime. 

“Not even a hello?” Draco replied, smirking. “I come all this way to see you and that’s the greeting I get?”

Ginny laughed, interrupting him, and his smirk widened.

“I’m back in England.”

His mother had moved to France not long after Ginny had last seen Draco in Hogsmeade. Draco had followed Narcissa.

“I see that!”

“I wasn’t sure I’d make it in time. I’m glad I did.”

“I am too. I haven’t been playing, I’ve still been a reserve—”

“—yes, I’m aware—”

“—Uribe got injured only a few hours before the game, they hadn’t been sure if she’d be allowed to play. They only told me right beforehand, I didn’t even have time to tell my family—”

“Pity I won’t get to see them today.”

“Oh, shut up, Draco,” Ginny said.

Her smile was so large it almost hurt. She twisted her hands in front of her, resisting the sudden desperate urge to reach out and touch him, to make sure he was really here in front of her. It had been over a year since she had last seen Draco and he looked—well, he looked great. He looked happy. 

“Congratulations on the win, Weasley.”

There was something tender about the way he was looking at her. Heat curled in her stomach. She had _missed_ him, she realized. Of course, she had known she missed him for ages now but it was easy to go about her life without thinking too much on it. They had continued to write each other, Draco offering sarcastic words of wisdom when she complained about schoolwork, Ginny teasing him when he mentioned how much he preferred France to England. If she ever told him she was worried about the Harpies, he’d reassure her that she had made the right choice. Whenever he wrote that he was worried he was running away from his problems, she’d offer advice.

Before he had left for France, Ginny had told him that she wanted them to become good friends. He had listened to her and their friendship had blossomed. Draco was cynical and snarky yet funny and smart. She wanted to be surprised by how much she enjoyed his letters but she wasn’t. Now, having him here in front of her, she wanted to be surprised by how happy she was to see him but she wasn’t.

“It’s loud,” she said, motioning to the stadium.

Her teammates were still jumping around, screaming, and the crowd was singing and cheering over the Harpies’ win. She wanted to go somewhere with Draco where she could hear him, where they could be alone and could spend some time together.

“Should we head to a pub? So we can talk and—” And what? Ginny wasn’t sure but Draco seemed to understand, nodding to her. “I’ll go shower and change and I’ll meet you—”

Again, she faltered, unsure of where they could go.

“I’ll wait here for you. It’ll take a while for them to clear the crowd.”

Draco inclined his head towards her teammates, who had begun shouting her name as they headed back to the locker rooms. She rushed after them.

\-------

She was nervous and she wasn’t sure why. Or, maybe, she did know why—perhaps it had something to do with Draco coming to her game without having known she was going to play. He had come to support her. He had rushed from France. Maybe it had to do with his awkward wave when they made eye contact on the field, like he wasn’t sure if he was welcome or not in her moment of celebration.

Ginny had wanted to cry the moment before she noticed him. The sight of him chased the drowning feeling away. That could be why she was so worried to go see him now. They had decided to become friends, good friends, and Ginny liked their friendship. She liked _him_. It felt like there was something there, though, that pushed her to want _more_. It hadn’t been there before, that feeling, but when she had gone to the locker room and escaped to the showers, she had felt it settle in her gut.

Her teammates invited her to a pub they were planning on Apparating to. She turned down the offer, though they didn’t seem surprised. They must’ve seen her talking to Draco on the pitch. Once they left the locker room, Ginny allowed herself a moment to twist her damp hair into a braid, pinch some more color into her cheeks, and check her shirt for stains before she left too. Draco was waiting where she left him. The pitch was empty otherwise except for the fallen confetti. She could see members of the staff above them who were going through the stands and cleaning.

It was strange how silent it was now. 

“You’ve got confetti in your hair,” Ginny noticed with a smile.

“Is that so?”

“It’s adds a nice touch of color to you.”

“You don’t think the black looks good on me?” Draco asked, glancing down at himself. 

Ginny rolled her eyes and he smirked. When she was close enough, she reached up and picked the pieces of confetti off of him. Yellow, purple, blue. Her hand wanted to linger, wanted to brush along his cheek, to feel the warmth of his skin. She pulled it close to her instead. What was _wrong_ with her?

“Thank you for coming to the game. You hadn’t known I was going to play and you still came.”

She hesitated and he noticed.

“You think I put a hit out on Uribe so you could play your first match?”

Draco was clearly amused.

“I wouldn’t put it past you,” she said with a laugh. “No, I mean—I had thought everyone had missed it. Me playing and us winning and… I think I was a bit devastated at the idea.”

Draco’s eyebrows lifted as his eyes searched her face.

“The crowd loved you and your teammates were incredibly proud.”

“I meant my family and friends. I thought everyone I cared about missed my first game.” She had a feeling he knew what she had meant and was being difficult on purpose. “But you were here. I’m so happy you were here.”

Standing on the pitch, with no one else around as she admitted that to him, made her feel exposed and vulnerable. She worried at her bottom lip and swallowed the embarrassment that was creeping up her throat, threatening to choke her.

“Should we go somewhere? Or did you have plans? I hadn’t even thought to ask, I had assumed you were free. But you just got in from France, didn’t you? You’re probably exhausted. Don’t feel like you need to entertain me, I can head out to, um, the pub my teammates went to. If you wanted to go home.”

Draco looked away from Ginny when she spoke, his attention on the empty stands above him. Ginny looked up also. The sky was darkening and stars were already beginning to twinkle. She had been living in the city for so long now that she forgot how bright the stars were without light pollution.

“I came to see you,” Draco finally said. “Should we get a better view of the stars?”

Ginny blinked in surprise.

“It’s not like they’ll kick you out of here. You just won the game.”

“I didn’t win the game. If the Snitch hadn’t been caught, it would’ve gone on for much longer.”

“This could be the first time I’ve heard a Weasley being modest. I’m not quite sure how to handle it—”

“Don’t be a prat!” Ginny laughed, shoving him.

He let out a startled laugh and it rang around them. Draco led the way to one of the doors on the opposite side of the pitch; it was likely where he had come from when he came down to see her. Pulling it open, he motioned for her to walk ahead of him. She picked a staircase at random and started going up. There was a pleasant burn in her legs by the time they reached the first level. 

When she asked if they should find a seat nearby, he agreed. They passed by a worker who was making sure the brooms were sweeping correctly; when he noticed Ginny, he waved them on. Settling in seats closest to the edge, Ginny and Draco stared up at the sky once more. It was completely dark now except for the lights from the stadium. 

“How long are you back in England for?” 

Draco lifted one shoulder in a shrug.

“I don’t think Mother wants to come back. I wouldn’t mind, of course. I enjoy France but… I do miss it here sometimes.”

“Why doesn’t your mum want to come back?”

“Bad memories. My father is in Azkaban for the rest of his life. The manor is lonely without him. Even when it was Mother and I, there was something missing there. It had been the three of us for so long…” he trailed off, his eyes unfocused as he looked out across the pitch. Ginny stared at him, waiting for him to come back to her. It only took a moment. 

“She worries about me coming home.”

That wasn’t what Ginny had expected Draco to say. When he didn’t continue, she knocked elbows with him. He smiled, a soft, gentle thing.

“Go on. Why is she worried about that?”

“There are people here who aren’t as fond of me as you are.” Her mark tingled at his words. “They’re mad I wasn’t thrown into Azkaban beside my father. Or that my father didn’t receive a kiss from the Dementors. There are people who would still like to see us punished, even now.”

Ginny frowned. He didn’t seem particularly concerned or upset.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” she told him, offering him a smile when he looked at her.

“Should I tell my mother that?”

“Well, since she knows we’re soulmates she’ll likely believe it,” Ginny said with a shrug. “You’re safe with me.”

She had meant to say it teasingly, despite being rather serious. But Draco stilled beside her, his eyes locked with hers. The air seemed to warm around them. He had never looked at her like that before—as if she was something precious, something to be protected, something rare. Her heart fluttered.

He cleared his throat and looked away. 

“I had always thought it would be different,” Draco told her. “Finding my soulmate.”

“Yeah, me too,” she replied because it was true.

His fingers tapped the railing and she knew he wanted to say something, was trying to figure out how to say it properly without offending her, wanted to make sure the words were right. She bit the inside of her cheek.

“I’m glad we became friends. When I first realized—when we first touched in Umbridge’s office—I remember panicking,” Draco said with a sharp laugh. “I remember thinking how much this would complicate things. Soulmates had always meant losing control and falling in love and whatever other nonsense. Finding your _person_.”

He fell silent abruptly. Ginny wanted to reach out and grab his hand, to still the anxious tapping of his fingers, but she didn’t. There was something clearly bothering Draco.

“Draco?”

“You’re not with Potter.” It wasn’t a question but he still looked at her for confirmation.

She hadn’t been with Harry for almost two years now. Ginny nodded hesitantly.

“You’re not dating anyone, are you?”

“No, I’m not.”

He made a sound in his throat, as though she had proved his point.

“Sometimes I think about what I thought having a soulmate would be like and I think of _you_ and how we’ve grown and I—I’m not sure. I’m not sure.”

Ginny couldn’t stop herself from reaching for him now. His hand was cold when she grabbed it. Draco didn’t pull away though. He simply frowned. 

“What do you want, Draco?”

“To understand why you were so happy to see me today. I’ve been horrible to you and your family over the years. I took the Dark Mark. I let in the Death Eaters. I should be in Azkaban,” he answered easily, as though these thoughts had plagued him for years. “And I’ve wanted to see you for months now— _you_ , who are so opposite of everything I should want. I’ve—I’ve imagined a future for us that I’m not sure makes sense. I’ve bloody daydreamed about you having tea with my mother and her telling me afterwards that she understood why our marks are the same, why we’re meant to be together. And… and sometimes I think I understand why we’re meant to be together too.”

Her heart was in her throat. 

“You should hate me, Ginny.”

“I don’t hate you,” she said, finally able to collect her thoughts and speak. “Don’t be an idiot.”

“Why don’t you? You have every reason to—”

“Honestly, I—” she huffed. “You’re a prat and you’ve been a miserable prick over the years and, yeah, you’ve said really horrible things to me. I had never thought I’d be able to forgive you for any of it but—but I have. And it was easy. You helped me through some of my darkest times. Every part of you, I—I accept it. Every part.”

“Because we’re soulmates?” he asked.

“No. Because we’re human and we’re both flawed and… and because the only reason I had been able to hit you with the Bat-Bogey Hex in fourth year was because you had loosened your grip on my arm. You were going to let me go.”

Draco stared at her, attentive and serious.

“I think I was mostly in shock that my soulmate was a Weasley.”

She glared at him but couldn’t help the smile that stretched across her face. His eyes twinkled.

“I must be mad,” she muttered. 

Without any hesitation, she grabbed the front of his robes with her free hand and pulled him towards her. Draco’s eyes widened in surprise. Her blood sang, her heart raced. It was only one kiss. This didn’t have to change anything.

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.


	7. October 16th, 2000

_October 16th, 2000_

_Draco Malfoy’s flat, 896 Shire Road, London_

“You seem worried.”

“I’m not worried.”

“I didn’t say you were, I only said you _seemed_ like you were,” Draco informed her, watching as she pulled off another dress before picking up one that he was rather certain she had already tried on.

Ginny didn’t bother to turn around to face him but he knew she had an awful glare on her face. He wanted to comfort her but he wasn’t sure how. It had been months since they had officially started dating. Draco had moved back to England and had managed to get a lowly job with the Ministry. She had continued on with Quidditch. Slowly they introduced each other to friends and family.

But now Ginny had to meet his mother and she wasn’t handling it well. They had little less than half an hour before they needed to head to Malfoy Manor, where his mother was staying for the winter. If she didn’t pick an outfit soon, they’d never make it on time. He opened his mouth, to gently remind her they needed to hurry, but she spoke before he could.

“Do not rush me, Draco. This is important.”

“It doesn’t matter what dress you pick, darling. My mother is going to find something she doesn’t like about your appearance no matter what.”

“That’s reassuring,” Ginny grumbled, glancing over her shoulder at him. “You’re not supposed to be making me feel worse about this, you know.”

“If I recall correctly, you had cackled as you watched me try to find something to wear to meet your parents. You could barely speak, you were laughing so hard.”

“That is _not_ what happened. I think Pansy had hit me with a Tickling Charm meant for you.” She grinned cheekily at him when he scoffed. “She’s a horrible friend, that Parkinson.”

Draco climbed out of bed and walked up to Ginny. As always, she looked perfect no matter what she tried on. He pressed a kiss to Ginny’s cheek when he reached her. She visibly relaxed, leaning back into him. His mark tingled.

“Why did we decide to do this again?” she asked softly.

“Because one of your foolish teammates mentioned to the Prophet that I have a habit of sneaking into the locker room to see you after games. Bloody Uribe.”

“Bloody Uribe,” Ginny agreed with a sigh.

“Simply jealous you replaced her on the team. She should’ve retired after her injury.”

Ginny made a sound in her throat. She didn’t like insulting her teammates, even the idiotic ones who couldn’t hold their tongues. Draco didn’t mind nearly as much. 

“Your mother is going to hate me.”

“Ah, come now,” Draco drawled. “ _Your_ mother found me absolutely charming.”

“I still think you slipped something into her drink. My mum was a nightmare before you walked into the Burrow and—”

“Swept her off her feet?” he suggested.

It was clear she was trying to bite back a smile. He recognized the look and pressed another kiss to her cheek.

“You still have to meet the rest of my brothers,” Ginny reminded him, turning to face him.

She ran her hands down his shirt and her eyes tracked the movement. Then she met his gaze, her eyebrows lifted.

“Bill, Charlie, Percy, and their wives.”

“Yes, yes, I know. I am very excited to get murdered by your horde of brothers.”

“Ha!” 

Ginny stepped back from him and looked down at herself. Then she shrugged, as if she could do no more to help herself.

“This is it. This is what I’m wearing. Do I look somewhat presentable?”

“Yes,” he replied easily because it was the truth.

“Will I get to meet your peacocks when we arrive at the manor?”

“As long as the house-elves haven’t eaten them.”

She rolled her eyes. Ginny hadn’t stopped talking about the albino peacocks at Malfoy Manor since Draco mentioned them casually in conversation months ago. He had instantly regretted it. 

“I’m ready for my pep talk, Draco.” 

“Pardon?”

Ginny levelled him with a look.

“I gave you a pep talk the night before you met my parents. You have to give me one now before I meet your mum. It’s only fair.”

“I’m not sure it works that way,” Draco said slowly, eyebrows furrowing.

Ginny didn’t say anything. Instead she lifted her wrist up so it was eye level with him. As always, he instantly spotted the two interlocked circles that darkened the skin on her wrist. An excited flutter tickled his stomach, as though a Snitch had suddenly been let loose there.

His soulmate, his person, his confidante.

It had become a habit of hers to show him her mark whenever he was being particularly stubborn. She said it was a friendly reminder that he was stuck with her for the rest of his life. It had a way of swaying his conviction, reminding him to be grateful for her.

“Can I just repeat yours? You know I’m not good at speeches. I need to plan ahead.”

“Sure, sure,” Ginny said, already grinning. 

He would never tell her but he memorized her impromptu pep talk that she gave him the night before he met her parents. They had been sitting on his bed, almost ready to fall asleep, when she had rolled over to face him. She must’ve known he was nervous, likely more nervous than Ginny was right now. And she had said—

“Everything will be alright. I love you completely. And you love me the same. That’s all. The rest is confetti.”

“The rest is confetti,” she repeated.

Draco couldn’t help but smile back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading everyone! And thanks for the awesome prompt, Jessica! I chose your prompt because I knew it would challenge me. I love, love, love Haunting of Hill House and that scene in particular. Did I originally plan to have this story end in heartbreak and death? Um, yes. I decided to go for a fluffier route to make all our lives easier. I hope I somehow managed to fill your prompt desires, Jessica!

**Author's Note:**

> This was done for the Draco/Ginny summer exchange over at FFN! Thanks for the prompt, idreamofdraco!
> 
>  **Basic premise:** "I loved you completely. And you loved me the same. That's all. The rest is confetti." Quote from this scene of The Haunting of Hill House. You don't have to have seen the show to write this story. I'd really just love to read anything inspired by this quote or the scene as a whole. Whatever moves you.  
>  **Must haves:** A thoughtful story full of emotion. I want to feel exactly what Draco and Ginny are feeling, no matter what those feelings are.  
>  **No-no's:** Nicknames like Ferret, Weaselette, and Mione.  
>  **Rating range:** Any.  
>  **Bonus points:** Using the quote in the story. Referencing confetti or re-contextualizing the confetti part of the quote. If your story does not end in tragedy.


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